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I grab his face and pull him back in, but it buzzes again. We can’t ignore it this time. It’s late. No one would call at this hour if it weren’t important.

He curses under his breath and rests his forehead against mine for one, two, three seconds before pulling away.

“Fucking hell.” He reaches into his pocket before answering with a swipe of his thumb. “Yeah?”

I stand there, panting and completely wrecked, watching this man in my apartment, in my space, still looking at me as if he wants to devour me whole.

I should be mortified.

I should be panicking about what we just did.

But I don’t; I simply watch.

Not enough time has passed for me to regret this just yet, and I’m not sure if I will.

“Thanks, Kate. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” His voice is softer now, but I see the shift in him.

Rosie.

He hangs up and exhales, his forehead creasing.

“Is she okay?” I ask, heart still stuttering.

“Kate said she doesn’t have a fever, but she won’t settle. I can’t leave her there if she’s upset.”

“Of course,” I agree, righting myself in my dress.

He shoves a frustrated hand through his hair andlets out a rough breath. Then he does something that completely throws me off. Instead of pulling away, instead of acting distant and cold, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s soft and gentle, and everything I didn’t think Wes could be with anyone other than Rosie.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my skin.

I’m not sure if his apology is for what we just did or for needing to stop.

“It’s okay. I’ll drive.” When he tries to argue, I cut him off. “I haven’t been drinking, and the car seat is in my car.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” I say, already grabbing my keys and slipping my feet back into my shoes. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Thirty-Five

Wes

Lena has barely thrown her car into park before I fling open the door and jump out, my heart wedged somewhere in my throat. Behind me, I hear her scrambling to catch up, her shoes hitting the pavement, keys jangling in her hand. We’re both a mess, flushed and still tangled up in the wild memory of what just happened back at her apartment.

I shove it down because right now I’ve got one thing on my mind, and that’s Rosie.

My night has swung from hot-and-heavy kissing in Lena’s apartment to full-blown dadpanic. God help me, because I’m nowhere near equipped to handle either one.

I reach Kate’s door, not bothering to knock as I barrel inside. Rosie’s muffled sniffles immediately tug at my heart.

“She’s fine. Calm down,” Kate says, adjusting Rosie on her hip. She pauses to take me in, then glances over my shoulder where Lena has just stepped through the doorway. Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

Lena’s cheeks flush bright red, and I give Kate a look that clearly says,Shut the hell up.